


Explosion + Krueger + Mac

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Whumptober [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Explosions, Gen, Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, army days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: The first time Jack called that kid with the hamburger name, "Mac." (whumptober day 2: explosion)





	Explosion + Krueger + Mac

**Author's Note:**

> a day of firsts myself, in this instance, first time writing something 100% macgyver, and hopefully won't be the last!

It was a day of firsts, but it wasn’t their first explosion, most certainly not their last. Working with an EOD tech, explosions were just part of the job description, even if that job was to try and  _ avoid  _ such a catastrophe from happening. 

In this instance, this bomb had nowhere to go into a burst of flames that would most certainly engulf anything in a five mile radius. They had managed to move it into the vast desert, free of any civilians, free of any fellow soldiers, free of any living thing, save for Jack Dalton and Angus Macgyver. 

Should have been easy enough, drive out to literally any vacant five-by-five mile space in the sandbox, drop the bomb, drive away. Easy. 

If you have a vehicle, that is.

“What do you mean we’re out of gas?” Jack exclaimed wildly as Mac began sprinting into the desert with the bomb hugged far too close for comfort to his chest. That would be a conversation held between them later that night--“bombs are not footballs.”

“Had to use it,” Mac panted. 

“First my radio, now the gas...what’re you gonna tear apart next? My helmet?”

About a mile into their sprint, Jack popped the question.

“How long we got once you set that thing to snap, crackle, pop?” 

“Just enough to get away...Maybe. Hopefully. Really counting on the adrenaline to increase running speed, lots of variables involved in that.”

“Looking at the glass half-full, as always.”

“You can turn back now. I’ll make it back in time.”

“Nah, nah, nah, Carl’s Junior, you know how this works. If we’re being sent home in a box, we’re being sent together. Maybe even in the same box, if they can’t tell our bodies apart.”

“I don’t know if that’s really sweet or really...morbid.”

“Just keep running, Burger Meat. Good thing you didn’t skip breakfast today.” 

They made it to the invisible bulls-eye on the ground, planted the bomb, Jack did one final sweep, lapping circles around Mac as he set the bomb to go off. 

“Go on, get, you little rascal!” Jack barked out to a small lizard that was daring to head towards the bomb. 

“If you need a new job after this, looks like you got a future in animal wrangling,” Mac commented as he nodded for them to start running back towards their immobile vehicle.

“If they’d let us have pets, I’d take him with. Then again, if they did let us have pets, I’d have a bomb-sniffing dog, a full tank of gas, a functional radio, and we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“I told you, you could have stayed back!” 

“Like hell. Besides, see, I’m out-runnin’ ya anyway!” 

A smile cracked across Jack’s face as he could see Mac passing him up in his peripheral vision, the wheels were turning in his head to make another wisecrack, to egg Mac on into running faster, because if it all went to hell at least Mac would have a better chance of surviving ahead of Jack--when the smile dropped off his face, squashed under the sole of his boot, as he swiveled to see the pit Mac had fallen into.

“ _ Mac _ !” Jack called out to the fallen soldier, was about to dive into the hole, but was blown back by a gust of fire. The world shook, he feared that the hole would collapse, that Mac would be buried in a swirl of sand and flames. The fire washed over his body, a plume of smoke and sand followed, stung in his eyes. A foul, bitter taste settled in his mouth, his tongue felt so dry, shriveled like a wilted flower. A vibrating, high pitched string shot through one ear out the other, like there was a hollow hole piercing through his head. He tried to sit up, but his chest was a rock, his heart bouncing around his rib cage like a pinball machine. 

He was able to lift both hands in front of him, tried to wipe the dust out of his eyes but it just furthered the sting. He kicked his feet, managed to prop his body up on his elbows, not that it did him much good, as he still couldn’t see. 

But he could still feel touch, kept feeling around for the hole in the ground, for  _ him.  _ He would sooner bury himself alive before accepting the reality that the little bomb nerd got blown up all because he tripped onto a well covered pitfall. 

“Mac! Where are you?” he kept calling, but even if Mac did respond, he wouldn’t have heard. 

“....Ear...Ack…He…”

The dust was clearing in front of his eyes, he was able to open them, just barely enough to see a sandman in front of him. 

“Jack, I’m here!” the man made of sand coughed.

“Mac?” Jack shouted, louder than he really needed to, overcompensating for his inability to hear himself talk.

“Yeah, I’m here. All limbs accounted for, both of us. Guess they’ll need two boxes after all.”

That got a pained laugh out of Jack, along with a couple of coughs dragged out his lungs. 

“Tell me something, brother, my face…” he panted. “Feels like it’s on fire.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay,” Jack gulped, not fully believing Mac, as he felt like his face was melting into his skull. “But...But there’s some burns, yeah? That sick ass beard I had growing in is most definitely toast, and not the good, buttery kind, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, your beard’s gone. Sorry, buddy.”

“On a scale of Ark of the Covenant to Freddy Krueger, how bad is my face?”

“Freddy Krueger?” Mac asked.

“1984, Nightmare on Elm Street. Then again, you might be too young to remember that one. We’re definitely having a movie marathon when we get back home.”

Jack blinked, the last bits of sand gone from his eyes, and the sand-coated kid was smiling at him. 

“That’s not the face of someone looking at a guy looking like he was just tossed into an oven with the highest setting.”

“You’re good, man, trust me. Just a ton of sand--” Mac cupped a hand to Jack’s cheek, Jack noted how cold his hand felt in comparison to his boiling face. Mac waved his thumb over Jack’s skin, wiping the darkened sand away, over the singed remains of the man’s facial hair. 

“You’re one to talk, dude! We’re gonna use up all the shower water tonight, for sure. Definitely gonna have sand in places I don’t even wanna think about…”

Mac helped Jack to his feet, they began to walk back towards the small civilization they were charged with surveying. Arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, limping together, Jack groaning as he began to shake his body free of sand, and Mac still... _ smiling _ . 

“You know, If I knew being covered head to toe in sand would crack a smile outta you, I’d have given you a sand bath a hell of a long time ago,” Jack commented.

“Mac.”

“Yeah, that’s you, bro.” 

“No, you...you called me, ‘Mac.’”

“And I call me, ‘Jack.’ Mac and Jack. Soooo...your point?”

“You’ve never called me Mac before. The first time. I’ve always been Carl’s Junior...or  _ Angus _ ,” Mac elaborated, with obvious disgust at the latter name.

“Calling you ‘Mac’ was just a matter of convenience. ‘Carl’s Junior’ don’t roll off the tongue in a pinch,” Jack shot back with a wink. “Does got a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Mac n’ Jack.”

“Yeah...it sure does.”


End file.
